— Come on, just do it! — Tracer first got hold of Widow's
waist, to which she reciprocated. — Right, now grapple us up
there!

The sharp yank wasn't as sharp as she expected and rather
soon they were stood on a narrow passage made of sandstone.

— Y'ready? Hold me very tight now, this thing is...

But she didn't finish and was navigating the air,
which you hafta admit is hard, if you can only maneuver
horizontally. A couple terrifying seconds later they
landed way behind enemy lines, with a clear view on all of
them.

— Now's your opening, luv!

Widow hoisted the firearm to her shoulder, aimed in, and
fired. Reaper's head seemed to have exploded. She leaned
leftward, sighted in and fired again. Reinhardt befell
upon his knees; then collapsed fully as the second shot sounded.
Tracer was humming some melody, leaned back against a wall.

— Ssh! — Widow raised her free hand.

Tracer froze mid-hum and mid-headsway as Widow's
head locked at an extraordinary angle,
listening to the faintest of sounds.

— Get ʁeady to get us out of 'eʁe. — She alerted
and grappled directly upwards.

On the way down she sighted in and last time on Symmetra;
she lost precision due to a very narrow
angle of opening, though, so she just started crawling
around with her knee in shatters. Widow landed next
to Tracer perfectly quietly.

— Ready, luv?

Widow just nodded as she grasped for Tracer's torso. She didn't
feel the yank of Tracer's Chronal Accelerator – she
passed out. Tracer stroked her hair and somehow navigated
the air with much more ease than even when she was alone.
She had to cease quite shortly, though, as Widowmaker woke just
seconds after passing out.

— Ah, magnifique. — She sighed, looking at the battlefield,
or at Tracer (it was rather hard to tell, especially from Tracer's
perspective).

— Aye, that was a most impressive display.

— Hwhat? — Widow was still somewhat confounded,
then noticed the ambiguity in her statement and
suddenly became flustered. Tracer didn't notice, as
she was cherishing how Widow was confused enough
not to let her go.

And so they lasted, seemingly endlessly, cherishing a moment
tranquil as very few are for soldiers at war. Then it all
came down crashing like a broken mirror as adrenaline
made way for endorphins and endorphins – for exhaustion.
As many of these moments, this one was saved by the party
returning with figurative spoils.

By this time they'd approached Tracer&Widow to
a distance at which a converstaion could
be held comfortably.

— Nice work out there; innovative in the ery deed. Our
job was just cleanup duty after that. — Seven-Six broke the silence

— Cheers, mate. — Tracer smiled and looked at Widow to see why
she was being so uncharacteristically
quiet and reacted not to the compliment, and quite a big one
at that, coming from Seven-Six. — Oh, she's
asleep, the poor thing — She gently poked Widow
and wispered in her ear. — Soldier here says you
did a good job.

Widowmaker woke. — Ah, merci.

— Yaes? — Mercy tilted her head away from her conversation
with McCree. Then, realising her mistake,
giggled softly.

As everyone was getting settled, Zen noted,
that Lena wasn't, as was usual, avoiding
Amélie, and, indeed, didn't as much as flinch when she
took a seat next to her.

— Four whiskeys, please. — Inquired McCree the barman.

Upon receiving the order, and many orders thereafter,
unsurprisingly, everyone was rather intoxicated, yet
was holding strong (okay, barring Zenyatta, who vacated the
scene after Angela stopped being coherent). Even Amélie
and Lena, temporarily forgoing their differences, were leaning upon
each other, chanting a French-Brit love song. After
yet another round, Lena lost the delicate balance and fell onto
Amélie's thighs, fast asleep. Amélie shuddered, she
yearned for this, ever since Gérard died.
She sat Lena (mostly) upright, managed to
stand up herself, waved at the remaining party, someway
lifted Lena from under the table, where she managed to
slide, and thanking some lord for leaving her with perfect
motoric function despite her drunkedness, going up several
flights of stairs and fishng out the key to her room from
her vest. Having semi-sat-semi-laid Lena on her bed,
she untied both sets of shoes and slid them off,
wrangled the duvet from under Lena, laid next to her and then
it atop them. For the first time in however many years
she fell asleep quickly and without longing for Gérard;
as if knowingly, Lena's
head found her back and remained there. And that was the last thing
she remembered.

Sunlight hit the window blinds, dimly illuminating the small hotel
room as it did. The brightness, however suppressed, had woken
Lena, who lay against a back, eyes closed, reveling
in the sensation she'd been longing for ever since Emily's
passing. But, as such moments often are, this one needed to be interrupted,
this time but the need to dull out Lena's growing hangover headache by consuming
a sizeable amount of water, a task of monumental
difficulty, (a) because the headache got worse as she
moved and moving itself was already heavily impaired and (b) she was
extremely comfortable, and at the moment cared naught for
whose back her forehead was against. Eventually,
though, the moment had to be broken, for if she didn't
move at once she'd deface the shoulderblades in front of her,
herself and what she presumed to be the bed shie lie on with
the contents of her stomach. Somehow she managed to roll
off onto the floor and stumbled towards the nearest sink,
located in the bathroom, where she drank vigorously and
managed to keep her stomach in check, and began
to crawl back to where she lie before and froze temporarily as
her gaze fell upon Amélie. "So she's gone and bloody
done it." She thought. "Oh well." And
continuted along, as she did. Laying back down and
re-emplacing her forehead at Amélie's back, but, alas (or
not?) the temperature difference was enough to wake her.
Lena intook a breath sharplyand exhaled slowly,
shutting her eyes, making the moment last as logg as possible,
expecting it to be broken as soon as Amélie shifted over to face
her, but, instead, she just grabbed her and
hugged her closed to her chest.

Moments like this don't last; this
one did. It wasn't broken, it just transformed
when Lena felt Amélie's hot tears upon her face.

— What's wrong, luv?

— I don't know... Eveʁything's coming back to me... I 'aven't
felt this way since Gérard died. May I? — She interrupted,
pulling Lena in for a kiss. Lena reciprocated
with the highest degree of passion. Suddenly, she
couldn't wait any longer. She reached down to Amélie's waist and
put her hand under her shirt against the cold blue
back, sending shivers through both of them,
using it to slide the shirt off while Amélie
scrambled for the zipper on Lena's jacket, being
interrupted, however, by her shirt sliding past her eyes,
then pleasantly surprised the jacket having
slod off while her vision was obscured. As she
reached for Lena's trouser button, she was stopped
by her surprisingly strong, yet gentle, hands. Their
eyes met.

— I know, I know, I know. — Her hands were set free and
felt her tears being butterfly kissed away by Lena's
soft lips, somehow managing to undo the button she
was struggling with & sliding the trousers down, finding
Lena's hands doing the same to hers. Soon they were
both relieved of their trousers, and adequately, Lena
was the first to plunge her fingers inside Amélie, implanting her
mouth on the Frenchie's, swallowing her moan as she reciprocated.
Both of them came fast and hard,
starved almost beyond belief (or, well, beforehand),
their moans melding into one as they did. No words were uttered
no sounds were made, a moment eternally
tranquil; moments like that aren't made to last,
yet this one, again, did, and drifted off as they fell asleep.
in each other's arms.

The sun set and they awoke again, conscious now of
everthing they had together. Or, well, most of it, anyway.
Some things needed to still be sorted out and made sure
about.

— So...

— Yaes?

— Aren't you hungry, luv?

— For you... — Amélie smiled. — But otheʁwise, no.

— Well, then, you obviously have something on your mind, so go first
first.

— Hwhy now, afteʁ all this time? When did you stop to despise
me? — Amélie flushed, or, well, as best as she could.

— That purple's really cute, you should do that more
often. Or I guess I could. — Lena's mind suggested the view of
Amélie's cheeks as she came. — But, anyway, there
was something in you passing out in my arms, your body
against mine, in the withering Egyptian heat that made me finally
crack. As for my despising you... Shortly after I got out of the
black void my filfe became after Emily's death. I realised
you're just acting on orders and, well, you did get brainwashed
by Talon... — Lena sighed. — You fancy a cuppa?

— Suʁe. You 'ave questions, too?

— Ya, how'd you know to take me up here yesterday?
When'd you know you dig me?

— Pfh, did you ʁeally think I passed out foʁ so long? — Now it was
Lena's turn to flush, which had nothing to do with the steam
from the Earl Grey she was making, Amélie grinned. — Not 'aʁd
to pʁetend to be hwhen youʁ pulse is almost as good as dead.
As foʁ shoveling, I always 'ad a wild cʁush on you, especially
afteʁ I out of my black void afteʁ I killed Gérard.
But must of all, it was you, afteʁ I passed out,
you made me feel – foʁ the fiʁst time in a long time
caʁed foʁ, loved, even, I guess. — Lena leaned in with
the tea. — Ah, merci. — She took a sip. — Merdé, chaud!

— Oi? It's obviously hot, (a) because it's how you do it
properly. — Lena looked temporarily stuck with love
to her homeland and the Queen, but composed herself
quickly – and (b) you're hot, so it seemed appropriate.

— Oh, you. — Amélie took another sip. — Dʁinkable.

— Heyyy, you like it. Pass the test,
you did. — Lena giggled softly. — Also, I'd hoped that if I gave
you very hot tea you'll blush again, the purple's much
beter a colour than your usual blue.

Seeing that Amélie's finished her tea, Lena leaned in again
to kiss her, snatching the saucer&cup and setting
them down in relative safety. Into a kiss they pertained.

Moments like that aren't made to last, but sometimes,
just timetimes, they do. And they change the world.